


Fly W1th Me

by VillainousReaper



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, Pre-Scratch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousReaper/pseuds/VillainousReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Come on, Rufioh. Damara's on to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly W1th Me

With the gentle grip of his deSTRENGTHening gloves, so as to not break the rungs of the wooden and rope ladder, Horuss Zahhak hurriedly climbs to the top to meet up with the naive Rufioh Nitram as he said he would. There is a spot of guilt in him that has poked and prodded its way to the surface, because the always-prompt blue blood had canceled on their last three secret “dates”, so-to-speak, due to plans that came up. Maybe he shouldn’t call them dates, but he has no other term for the hangouts or get togethers. Saying hangouts or get togethers sounds downright silly in his own opinion, but that’s not up for discussion right now as he walks across the wooden boards that surround Rufioh's hive, providing visitors the ability to walk around and not fall to their death. His boots make a small ‘tap’ sound with each step, heels first, then toe. Heel, toe, heel, toe. He raises his right hand, and with the same gentle care that he takes on everything that cannot withstand his STRENGTH, he knocks on the bronze blood’s hive door. It’s within seconds that Rufioh answers, the same slightly nervous and goofy grin on his face. His smile has always made Horuss happy, though he wouldn’t show it. Not now, at least. “May I come in?” He asks politely, his voice deeper and firm. Rufioh nods as his reply and steps aside, wings fluttering to indicate his cheery mood.  
The Zahhak looked around the hive he had paced in many times before, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The walls of the main room consist of: lances stuck in the wood, fiduspawn posters, troll anime posters, and the occasional troll Hello Kitty poster. Rufioh has always been quite childish, even though he’s turning nine sweeps soon enough. It doesn’t bother the high blood though, as the childish attitude and look on life makes it easier to spend time with him. He doesn’t feel like he needs to be the persona he puts up. Once all the way in the hive, he sits down on what humans would call ‘a couch’, which sounds simple enough, and lets his shoulders fall a little. Rufioh smiles a bit more and follows him over, plopping down beside the stronger troll. “What do you wanna do?” The Nitram asks curiously, turning his torso slightly to face the other, or at least make some form of eye contact… Goggles-to-eye contact. Zahhak shrugs and adjusts his posture to remain the royal blue blood he is and not bring shame to his color. “We could possibly play that foolish card game you enjoy so much, if you wish.” Rufioh's eyes light up like night time fire flies that crowd around his hive, giving the other a curt but excited nod.  
Maintaining his game face was hard at times like these when his opponent was so happy. Horuss doesn't understand why the brown blood's smile brings him joy and makes his bloodpusher beat faster, but it always does. Seeing Nitram's goofy grin and copper cheeks makes the Zahhak's hands moisten and shake, and he hates it. He hates it so much. This is a lowblood! A LOWBLOOD! He shouldn't be happy around him! He shouldn't even care! But, he does. He cares so much that it's almost painful. Hell, they don't make it halfway through the game before Horuss blurts out, "Can we go flying?" It takes Rufioh by surprise because, well, he's never been asked this before. Damara said she's wanted to a few times, but she never brings it up. His voice is a little smaller when he responds, setting his cards face down. "Are you sure? I'm not... I'm not real confident in my flying skills... It's chill that you'd ask but I don't think having passengers is a good idea, ya dig?" Horuss, of course, nods in understanding, but he can't help the slightly hurt and pouty frown on his face. It makes Rufioh pause for a moment. Horuss was upset that Rufioh said no? He looked it, but he also looked disgusted and like he was trying to hide it. The Nitram shifts from his rear to his knees, and then slowly stands, holding his hand out to the one on the floor. The blue blood looks confused but sets his own cards down and takes his hand, using the most gentle grip possible as he stands. Just because he's wearing his specially-made gloves doesn't mean he still can't damage the smaller one. His lips curve into a confused frown, hoping that would get Rufioh to talk instead of him having to ask. "One quick flight, okay? Just one... Then right back to our game... Think you can handle that?" Horuss has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling, giving an involuntary nod.  
After following Rufioh out on to the deck, Horuss stops and looks down. His bloodpusher pounds in his ears at the height, but he will be STRONG. He grips the wooden railing, nearly cracking it as he yells at himself mentally for both bringing this up and being too stubborn to back down. Of course, the height and the way down to the ground sort of terrified him, but he’s too high in the hemocaste to say anything about it. He needs to carry himself with pride and confidence, like he’s always done in the past, so a little change in ground level isn’t going to put a dent in his mask. Rufioh, though, also looks worried, and he can’t hide it as well. His hands are a little shaky and he’s biting his lip to the point that it’s near bleeding. Zahhak doesn’t see another way to go about this, so he rests his hand on the other’s and speaks softly, his words oddly calming. “Try to relax, I’m sure you can do this. I have faith in you.” Rufioh glances over at high blood and nods slowly, taking a deep breath. When he calms down some, he turns, quickly taking Horuss in his arms without warning and jumps off the edge shouting, “BANGARANG!”  
After the hug, Horuss blinks a few times, confused. He’s even more confused when Rufioh doesn’t let go and then terrified when he jumps. It feels like his hemopusher is going to burst in his chest cavity from the sudden adrenaline rush. He clings to the other without thinking as they free fall, nearly a hundred feet above the ground now. That doesn't seem like a change, but Rufioh's hive is much higher than most think. His eyes clamp shut until the lowblood he is holding on to fans out his marvelous wings and they take flight, soaring above ground and through the trees at an incredible speed. He sneaks a peek at the area around them, feeling the brisk air brush passed his eyes, ponytail being blown frivolously in the wind. The only thing he can barely make out is the face of the troll holding him. Not the blurred trees that they zip through with ease or the distorted sounds of animals that wander the colorful forest. Just the face of Rufioh Nitram.  
It doesn’t take long before they’re both used to the situation and Horuss can let Rufioh go, knowing the bronze blood would keep his grip on the other. And he does, of course, because he wouldn’t let a high blood and a good friend like that fall. At current, they’re high above the trees, hair being blown back mixing with the sound of ruffled clothing and cawbeasts that fly with them. In the moment, everything is peaceful and for once, Horuss is genuinely happy. He lets the smile he’s been hiding creep up on his lips. He lets himself be free with his newfound friend, hundreds of feet above ground, his nose tinted a soft blue. Rufioh chimes in as they descend, figuring that maybe it’s time to head back to the hive. “Anywhere else you wanna go before we finish our game?” The blue blood nods a little, thought when he speaks, he’s very hesitant. He doesn’t want Rufioh to run off, and he doesn’t want the brown blood to get the wrong idea about things. Horuss waits until they land to speak up, as they wait under the tree for Horuss /to/ say what he wanted to say. “May we walk around for a while? I don’t feel like continuing that childish game you call fiduspawn just yet.” It takes the other a few seconds to process it, questioning why he wants to walk around, but he doesn’t object either. Nitram nods with a nervous smirk, taking one step to the right. Zahhak follows his lead until they’re side by side, trailing off along the moist forest soil.  
Hours pass of random bullshitting amongst the two, and Rufioh, luckily, got Horuss on to a topic that would keep him talking for most of the time (Rufioh didn’t like talking very much about himself). So, with hand gestures and smiles and exclamations of joy, Horuss went off on a tangent about robotics and horses and his pieces of “fine art” that remain in his own hive. Rufioh paid attention to most of this, and he actually enjoyed listening, until the area they were in got extremely familiar. He stopped mid-walk and face palmed, letting out a groan of pain afterward. Horuss quickly turned around, confused. “What is it, lowblood?” He asked confusedly. The Nitram stopping midway almost upset him, because acting out without both reason and explanation was extremely rude and disrespectful in his mind. The only action the lowblood does is point upward, signaling that they had made a huge circle and returned back to the hive. In the distance was a soft humming and the smell of a specific smoke, but the two trolls didn’t notice. Horuss was examining the rope ladder, more specifically, one of the rungs that had maroon lipstick. The humming got increasingly louder and more cheerful, for it was Damara Megido on her way to visit her loving matesprit. Rufioh’s eyes widened slightly when he saw the rust blood step out of the bushes and approach the troll she shared a quadrant with specifically. She eyed the blue blood curiously, who was standing idly behind a tree. He could barely tolerate the presence of the brown blood he was conversing with, but the idea of being around someone even lower disgusted him. She sidestepped and tried to wave, leering curiously at him, though he didn’t take too kindly to it. He scoffed, snarled, and folded his arms over his chest, turning away. Her brows furrowed in an angrier confusion and she walked over, resting her hand on his arm. “What problem?” She asked in her broken English. Whatever it be called. He quickly brushed her hand off of his arm and wiped his steampunk top off, baring his sharper troll teeth. He sniffed the air a few times and coughed at her cigarette of sorts, covering his nose and mouth with a large hand. Before he absconded, he shot Rufioh a look through the goggles, letting him know he’d message him later. Rufioh nodded and Horuss left.  
The very second he was gone, Damara went off on pestering her matesprit. What was he doing here? Why were they hanging out? What did he want? Did he go inside Rufioh’s hive? Did they do anything together? Rufioh only held his hands up in defence, consistently repeating, “No doll,” or, “Yes doll,” to keep her off his back. They didn’t do anything.

Yet.


End file.
